Not Your Typical Tropical Paradise
by groaar
Summary: Trafalgar Law, captain of the Heart Pirates, ends up separated from his crew and stranded on an island. This very island turns out to be inhabited by possibly hostile inhabitants, and his only companion is a possibly hostile woman. What ensues is an adventure Trafalgar Law thinks he could do very well without.
1. Day 1

Where did this idea come from? I am not sure…but as it stubbornly refused to leave my head it had to be written.

The story takes place sometime during the timeskip; after Law becoming a Sichibukai, but before him going to PH. I guess this will turn out a bit similar to the One Piece fillers. Simply, this story will focus on Law as opposed to the Strawhats.

The story might continue spoilers later on, as I'll try to follow the canon storyline, but if that happens I'll post a warning.

Disclaimer: Trafalgar Law and enyting else from the One Piece universe belongs to Eiichiro Oda.

* * *

The first thing that he noticed, as his mind slowly drifted back towards consciousness, was the calm rumble of waves. Rhythmic, slow rolls of water washing in over a flat coastline. The sand, rough and slightly wet under his fingers, was the next thing his sluggish brain managed to register. In any other case the risk of soggy sand finding its way into his clothes would be annoying, but for now Trafalgar Law was glad to feel dry land under his feet. Well, technically under his back and not actually all too dry but, still, land.

Slowly, the Heart captain let his eyelids slip open. He was met by a smudged mess of dark, blurred colours. He blinked, trying to focus his vision. Bit by bit his eyesight grew cleared, and soon Law realised he was staring up at a starry night sky; the moon happily greeting his steel, grey eyes from far above.

The pirate let out a shaky breath. He was alive. He had no idea where he was or how long he had been separated from his crew, but being alive he stood a chance at finding out.

For a while he lay completely still, focusing solely on his breathing. Law was both mentally and physically drained, but he knew he needed to do damage control as soon as possible. If any wounds needed tending the sooner he got to them, the better. So, the minute he felt collected enough he carefully tried wiggling his toes. The attempt proved successful, so he upped the ante and tried rolling his ankles, slowly working his way up his legs, systematically going through one group of muscles at the time. His lower body seemed to work fairly well. Stiff and tender, yes, but his limbs were moving when he commanded them to.

He repeated the process with his hands, clenching his fists then uncurling his fingers. Law's left arm turned out to be just fine, but the right one felt as if it would be on fire. Compared to the numbing, dull ache which plagued the rest of his body the pain in his arm was excruciating. But, he'd live through it. He'd had worse. The sluggishness, an effect brought on by the seawater no doubt, made the burn in his arm easier to cope with as well.

Wasting no time Law, arduously, slid his hands in under his lower back, wriggled a little in order to tuck them into the position he desired, and pushed. He could feel the heels of his hands sink deep into the damp sand, making it tougher to get up, but after a short struggle Law found himself sitting on an desolate beach, staring out at the vast, dark sea.

The damned, damned sea.

For days he had drifted aimlessly on that sickly mass of water, helplessly clinging to the remnants of a wrecked, potato barrel. Said barrel had served him good as a substitute chair during one of those rare sunny days when Law had decided it was in order to bring the submarine above surface and enjoy a bit of fresh air. Bepo had foreseen no storms, so Law had gracefully decided to let his crew roam free, doing whatever they pleased. Law should have known better than to trust such a positive prediction, though. Bepo was a skilled navigator and his prognoses were always spot on around winter islands, his abilities peaking the closer to his home milieu he got. Tropical climate, however, sometimes threw him off. Said sunny day had been such a time.

The storm had struck from nowhere; waves growing from shallow ripples to gigantic monstrosities in mere seconds. His men had emerged on deck just as fast as the storm had taken shape, and soon all hands had been busy preparing the ship for submersion. Law had had every intention to help, too, but as he pushed himself up from the barrel a wave of dizziness flitted through his mind, throwing him off balance. This was not too uncommon an occurrence. After sitting immobile in the sun, reading for hours at an end, it was to be expected, but the timing couldn't have been worse.

Law had only needed a split second to regain his balance, but that short moment had been enough of a delay. Before he knew it he'd been caught in the masses of water sweeping in over deck, throwing both him and his unsuspecting barrel overboard. He had been grateful for the barrel, though – from substitute chair to substitute lifeboat in one day was no measly upgrade. Now, Law thought, glancing sideways at a few scraps of wood, the barrel was reduced to nothing but soaked, unusable driftwood.

Sighing, Law pulled his hands through his hair, which was still slightly wet and sticky from too much saltwater. He had a nagging feeling that something felt wrong, but it took a while for his brain to register what it was. To Law's greatest horror his hat was missing. So, not only was he currently stuck in an unfamiliar location with no means to contact his crew, but he had also lost his favourite piece of attire. Spotted, furry hats were not easy to come by, and Law couldn't help but to grind his teeth in annoyance. He scanned the area carefully, looking for danger (and his hat, mostly the hat), but his search yielded no results. All he could see was dark water, sandy beaches that turned into colossal grassy fields closer towards land, and something red; red, thin and alarmingly familiar.

The pirate captain wasted no time. He flung himself up from the ground, cursing loudly as heated pain pulsated through his right arm. He'd really have to take a look at it soon, but first things first. A few, stumbling sprints was all he needed to reach the object, which, unfortunately, turned out to be precisely what he had though it to be: the red string that was always tied around Kikoku. And so began Law's frantic search for his nodachi, but, just like his hat, it seemed to have disappeared without trace. The only comfort was that Law could be rather certain of that the sword had not been lost at sea, seeing as it was highly unlikely that the string had untied itself and floated ashore on its own.

Frustrated the captain kicked the sand, sending it flying through the air. For a short moment the miniscule grains of sand shimmered like miniature stars in the moonlight, before falling back down to earth like heavy summer rain all around him. Lost, unarmed and alone, could things get any worse? Law snorted at the notion. He should know by now – things could always get worse, and more often than not they did.

No matter how frustrating the situation might be Law knew he needed to get moving. Sulking on the beach, however tempting, would be rather futile in the long run. His muscles would probably benefit from some stretching, too. It would get his blood flowing properly again. And, should he encounter danger he could always fall back on his Devil Fruit powers. Speaking of which, his right arm was still bitching considerably.

The captain ran his tattooed fingers along the hurting limb, pressing and prodding, looking for abnormalities. The pain spiked about midway down his forearm, and the slight swelling highly suggested some sort of fracture; an incomplete one, most likely, as the arm still retained its mobility. Seeing no need to waste precious stamina on healing a simple crack Law did what he could to best splint the wounded limb and left it at that.

The packet of driftwood, secured with the red string around his arm, looked slightly clumsy, but it did the job. To think that the barrel still proved useful to him, even when reduced to mere wooden splinters, was unexpected to say the least. It almost brought a smile to his face, and Law swore to himself to always make sure to have at least one barrel onboard his submarine at any time here on forth.

_His submarine_…

Law wondered if he'd ever see that again. He had no doubts that his crew would search for him, but whether they'd find him or not remained uncertain. He figured he couldn't have drifted too far in nothing but a simple barrel, but locating an island in the Grand Line was never easy; Log Pose or no Log Pose. Yet, he had faith in his crew because who else was he supposed to rely on? In the mean time he'd just have to make the best of this new situation, and finding a town where he could rest and properly treat his fractured bone was, for the moment, his highest priority.

With one last glance at the dark sea, so black Law could hardly discern where the water ended and sky began, he turned and walked towards the endless fields of spiky grass.

He trod along the edge of the field for quite a while. Law wasn't too keen on ploughing through the long grass aimlessly, so he was looking for a path, or something similar, to help pinpoint the general direction to move in. There seemed to be none, though, and the thought that the island might be uninhabited flitted through the captain's mind. It seemed unlikely, sizeable as the island was, but if this was indeed the case Law didn't want to spend an abundance of time looking for a road he was never likely to find. Ten more minutes, he thought, and then he'd just plunge into the dark-green sea.

About twenty-five minutes later the tattooed man was head high in grass – grass that seemed to grow higher with each step he took. Law hadn't noticed when standing on the beach, but the field more resembled a forest than a meadow. The blade shaped straws were thick, stiff, and lofty, reaching for the sky like millions of hands raised in prayer. Luckily, they weren't sharp to the touch, but rather the straws felt quite soft and somewhat oily against the skin of Law's palm whenever he pushed some of the grass out of his way.

In an attempt to identify the grass plant, he tried to crush some between his fingers. The plant fibre proved resilient, and when Law finally managed to break it apart the smell that met him was a poignant, bitter scent with the slightest hint of almond. He didn't recognise it, but judging from the smell alone the plant was, perchance, applicable for medicinal use. Large doses though, Law figured, could prove fatal if ingested, at least the almondy fragrance pointed towards it.

Law had just finished pocketing some samples of the grass, in hopes that he'd get an opportunity to study it later on, when his ears picked up the sounds of distant voices and muffled footsteps.

He wasn't alone.

Whereas the notion of finding a town had appealed to him before, Law now found he was a tad unsure. People could mean many things, both good and bad, and it was impossible to tell whether he'd be received as friend or foe. Not intent on taking any risks Law stilled his breathing, calmed his nerves, and focused wholly on listening; ready for fight or flight depending on the situation.

The sounds seemed to head straight to where he was standing. They drew closer and closer, and as a response Law's pulse grew all the more agitated, until the merciless, hammering roar of blood in his head was the only sound he could discern. It was screaming: _fight, fight, fight_!

For a fraction of a second Law wavered, caught between the choice of following his instincts or his brain. He had scarcely any time to decide because hey, whoever they might be, were close now, but as always in a tricky situation Law went with the option that felt most comfortable; tactical thinking. In this case caution would pay off, the tattooed pirate was sure of it, so he crouched, hiding best he could in the long, silver-green grass.

Then he waited.

The small entourage walked straight past Law, separated from him only by a few meter thick wall of grass. They carried lamps to illuminate the dark night, and Law, afraid the group would discover him if he tried to slip further back, did his best to stay perfectly still to avoid detection. Luckily, the lamps were dim and the group otherwise preoccupied, chattering away in a language unfamiliar to Law. Although he couldn't understand anything concrete the pitch and tone of their voices suggested they were in rather good humour; laughing, chattering eagerly, and letting out small, shrill shrieks of excitement.

Law estimated they were about twenty altogether, walking in pairs in a row, and judging from the crunch under their feet the pirate had finally stumbled upon a road. Another thing he noticed was that the members of the group were carrying things – supplies, or so Law supposed. He could just barely make out the shape of sheaves of bosky plants slung over shoulders, and someone was hefting a basketlike object upon their back. This was all fine, but there were worrying signs as well.

Firstly, the group was definitely armed; the constant clank of metal could indicate nothing else. Secondly, and perhaps even more nerve-racking was the fact that two men in the group bore a long pole between them, resting its wooden ends on their broad shoulders, and to this pole a prey was tied. The shape of the prey resembled that of a human, uncomfortably much so, and the heavy stench of fresh blood that floated through the air as the limp, meaty bundle was carried past Law's hiding spot did not ease his suspicions.

For a long while, even after the group had passed, Law didn't budge. He wanted to make sure the persons he had encountered were long gone before he'd chance stepping out on the path cutting through the field. First when he grew weary of dull ache spreading through his legs, a protest against him remaining immobile for too long, did he warily tread out of the dense grass forest.

Out in the open he noticed that the wind had increased in power, making the green blades bow and rustle to its own pleasure, singing whispering songs amongst the grass straws. The sound was eerily alluring, and the waves rippling through the field transformed it into a sea of greenery which glimmered beautifully in the pale moonlight. The fresh trace of blood on the narrow dirt road, however, ruined the picturesque scenery.

Law was still contemplating the blood specks, trying to determine whether it was actually human in origin, when he felt a cold, prickling shiver slither down his spine. Someone was watching him. In one smooth motion he whirled around to face whoever was observing him, but was faced with nothing but an empty road.

Grey eyes darted quickly from one side to another, checking the perimeter, and Law tensed his muscles, preparing for battle. A suspicious rustle to his left had him snapping his head in the direction of the sound, and instinctively he reached for Kikoku only to recall it wasn't there.

All he could see was grass, but he knew this did not exclude the possibility of someone hiding amongst it. He peered into the green wall, focusing his mind on the spot he thought the sound had come from. At the first sign of movement he rushed forward, but before he had even take one full step towards his goal he felt a sharp sting just under his right ear.

Law's hand flew up and he slapped his palm over the hurt spot, reacting much like one would when stung by a bee. The object under his fingers was small and metallic, and as a surgeon Law was all too aware of what it was. A syringe. A goddamned syringe. Was it poison? Neurotoxin? A paralyzant?

Panic started forming in his brain, and then, without the slightest warning, the world started spinning. Law staggered. His eyelids were growing unbearably heavy, and he could feel how his knees gave in, causing him to collapse onto the ground. Sedatives, he realised, but too late. Despite his mind frantically howling at his body to move there was little he could do. He was already lost. His breath came in ragged, short bursts, and Law knew he was about to lose consciousness.

Though his vision was turning fuzzy, like he would be viewing the world through an exceptionally dirty window, he saw a figured slip out of the dense thicket of grass blades. It was a woman. She was noticeably shorter than him, and her chopped hair shone like silver in the faint nightlight.

* * *

Yeah, that was all for now. As soon as I find time to spare I might produce some more text.

Feel free to leave a comment and tell me what you think. I'm pretty much groping about in the dark with this story, so feedback is always welcome.


	2. Day ?

First of all, I really want to thank everyone for the feedback It's been amazing, and I'm very grateful! Thank you all! :)

I wrote some more, and it ended up both a bit different and shorter than I intended. However, I wanted to post something before going to work, so, this'll have to do. I haven't had time to proofread and such, so I hope it's legible at least.

* * *

For a while there was only blackness and confusion. His ears were ringing, his eyes stinging, and he was surrounded by a sickly sweet smell which reminded him of overripe fruit. It was all very disorienting. He also felt a certain discomfort. Yes, his body was hurting, but there was something else, too – an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. It felt as if his intestines were knotted and tangled into a great, big messy ball of yarn.

A groan, strained and weak, penetrated the ringing that still filled his ears. It sounded as if it came from someone in great pain. Before he could think any more of it, a powerful wave of nausea washed over him, tightening the coiled mess of intestines further, causing him to contract into himself. He pulled his knees towards his chest and inclined his head downward, scraping his cheek on a cold stony surface in the process. As he did so the groan came again, and to his horror Law realised that the source of the distressed sound was none other than he himself.

_He_ was in pain.

The frightening thing, though, was not the pain itself, but the nature of it. Law knew pain. He knew it well, as a matter of fact, and this was not the kind of soreness that resulted from battle. No, this type of agony was far more insidious, or perhaps the term poisonous was more appropriate. The jumbled feeling in his bowels was a certain indicator. Whether it was lethal Law could not but guess. However, the intense need to vomit could be a good sign, albeit it did not feel so at the moment.

To shift his mind of the nausea the captain tried to focus on his breathing instead. His throat, however, felt clogged up and swollen, making the supposedly effortless job of passing air through his lungs a very arduous task. The fact that his head was pounding, throbbing rhythmically to the beat of an unheard tune, only made matters worse, and the bitter, acrid bile burning in the back of his throat, already threatening to spill over, was also unpleasantly distracting. Still, it was not only the pain and nausea that were worrying either, but Law couldn't help but notice that his body felt oddly numb. It was, perhaps, this dull tingling, like that of a million small bugs dancing wildly on top of his skin, which he found worst of all.

The captain couldn't quite recall the last time he had felt this powerless – this vulnerable.

Minutes ticked by slowly, and with time Law's senses steadily normalised, although the same could not be said about the state of his body. Law did his best to lay as still as possible, every movement causing the nausea to double in force. He wasn't sure of how long he'd be able to withstand the constant urge to throw up and rid his stomach of its contents, knowing this would, most likely, make him feel better. Yet, he couldn't help but fight his reflexes, as if letting it all out would be equivalent to some huge failure. He was, loath to admit it though he was, too proud to show such weakness, especially so in the face of a potential enemy. He had to think of something else.

In his current condition chances of escape seemed low, this much Law couldn't deny, yet this was no excuse not to inspect his surroundings. For all he knew he could have been left unsupervised, implausible though it sounded. With sheer willpower, because that was the only form of power he momentarily seemed to possess, Law forced his eyes open.

Everything was somewhat of a blur at first, and the stinging of his eyes only got worse when he opened them. Nevertheless, Law resisted the urge to rub them in fear that this would upset his stomach, already bubbling sickeningly, further. Instead the captain blinked a couple of times, which naturally did not yield the same results as a good rubbing would, but it had to suffice. At least the room seemed clearer now. Either that or his mind was just starting to see things as it wanted them to be.

Law had been lucky enough to have been placed alongside one of the walls, which gave him a good view over most of the space around him. It was dim, but not pitch dark as a small fire, crackling in what seemed to be the centre of the room, emitted just enough light for the pirate to be able to make out the general outline of his captor's den. There was however, from what he could see, very little to observe.

The fire in the middle of the room, a few sacks and woven baskets that stood in a corner, and some sort of makeshift bed, made out of dried grass and hay, which he currently occupied. While these were all valid and accurate observations they mattered little, and the only thing Law really felt deserved any further attention was the crude table that stood against the wall opposite to where he was being held. Actually, it was not so much the table, but the woman who was standing in front of it, that mattered.

Doubtless it was she who was responsible for his current state. Yet, looking at her now, Law could not picture how such a small individual had managed to do him such harm. She was short and not too muscled, and although Law knew better than to judge people based on their physical being alone, the captain doubted that she'd be able to overpower him in a fair fight. Her hands were fast and skilled though, he had to give her that much credit. The way her fingers swiftly, almost effortlessly, moved across the table was definitely a skill to be associated with adept craftsmen alone. Adding to this, the pungent smell of crushed herbs mixed with the rapid chops of a knife against a wooden surface, as well as the eager thumps of a pestle hitting the bottom of a mortar, also indicated that she might possess some medical skills. Or, Law thought, slightly alarmed, she might be well ventured into the deathly art of poisoning.

That last thought was not welcome, and Law decided to push it into a far corner of his mind for the time being. Even if he had been poisoned there was little he could do about it at the moment. He was in no position to attack her. Sure, he had the element of surprise, but even if he, against all odds, managed to tackle her there would be no telling if there was backup waiting just around the corner. No, he'd have to take his chances and run (well, sneak out was perhaps a more accurate term for his escape, at least in his current condition). His only saving grace was that the woman seemed so engrossed in what she was doing that he might actually stand a chance at getting away unnoticed, even if he had to crawl out. He saw no other option.

He moved his hands till they were neatly tucked under his chest. Then, channelling all the willpower he could muster into his arms, Law pushed upward. He had to stop about halfway through the push-up like movement, resting on his elbows for a moment in order to fight the reflex to heave, before he could continue the slow process of forcing his body up from the ground. Eventually, through a great deal of pain and not any small amount of patience, Law managed to shift from his previously reclined position to one where he stood on all four.

Despite supporting his body with all four limbs Law felt hopelessly unsteady. His knees were screaming with pain and he could feel his shoulders and elbows protesting horrendously against the weight they were forced to carry. Yet, Law bit his tongue and suffered in silence. He had only one shot at getting out, and no level of distress was going to stop him. He sank his teeth into the soft flesh of his mouth, in order to muffle any unintended outbursts of discomfort, and so the dark haired captain started moving, slowly sliding one shaking hand forward.

The first step of his escape was completed, and so far all good.

Law's breakout, contrary to his own believes, was proving to be successful. That is, at least until he took his fourth wobbling, crawling step forward. At this point his right arm, the one he had injured earlier, collapsed, neatly folding in under him, successively causing the captain to fall to the ground with a soft, yet audible, thump.

The captain, although no believer, said a silent prayer, but of course this small incident – a miniscule misstep in his master plan – did not escape his captor's attention. Her shoulders tensed and her hands seized all movement, yet she didn't turn to face Law. When she finally began moving again it was simply to resume her chopping, the rhythmical sound of the knife hitting the wooden surface echoing through the otherwise silent room.

He wondered at her reaction. Was she frightened? Angry? Irritated? What was he to do now? She clearly knew he was awake, but that was all he could be certain of. The captain was unable to interpret the body language when denied all access to her facial expressions. He swallowed, finding himself at a loss. The woman might actually have played her cards well when she chose not to face him before nullifying any trace of emotion on her face, Law mused, because this really left him with very little to work with.

Law's head was a mishmash of thoughts, but the train running amok in his mind came to a sudden halt when he felt the inside of his stomach cringe violently. He had landed on his stomach when his arm gave in, and apparently said body part didn't much appreciate to be lied on. Law suppressed an all too whimper-like sound from passing his lips, and desperately racked his brains for an idea. The easiest option, by far, would be to simply flip over, so his aching belly would be facing the ceiling. The drawback, on the other hand, was that the momentum required for this single movement could bring undesired consequences. Then again, if he remained stationary in this position for too long there was no guarantee that these consequences would not strike anyway.

Running a multitude of scenarios and option through his head, Law was so caught up in his internal battle, in-fact, that it completely escaped his attention that the woman had seized her hacking. It wasn't before he could hear the shuffling of feet over stone floor that he was brought back from the deep cavities of his mind to the present, and it gave him enough of a start – perhaps energy his body had stored for a life-and-death battle – to fling his body into a sitting posture; damned be the consequences.

"Here" his captor said, kneeling in front of him, and shoved a semi-large, wooden bucket into his hands.

Law stared at her incredulously for a moment. Did she really expect him to use it? But no matter how long or hard he glared into her rust-coloured eyes they radiated nothing but seriousness.

"Trust me, or don't, but you won't start feeling any better until the poison is out of your system" she said with an amused grin playing at the corners of her pale lips. With that she retired back to her wooden table, which Law now could see was covered with green plants, flowers, and a numerous collection of various small pots and containers.

The captain didn't know whether he should feel mortified or enraged, so he settled for something in-between. He looked down the wooden bucket, as if that would help rid him of the unsettling turmoil in his gut. Law knew she was in the right though, he would, most likely, not get better until he got worse. At least the woman had the courtesy to not ogle him, or comment on whatever had to be done. The captain sighed deeply, resigning to his fate; nature would run its course, no matter what he wanted.

Afterwards he felt better. He couldn't deny that. The nausea was almost gone. The numbness from before, however, still haunted him, prickling and inching his skin. His strength wasn't returning either. Law glanced over at the woman, wondering what she was playing at. If she noticed him looking, she didn't react.

She moved quietly about the room, digging through the contents of one of the baskets Law had spotted earlier, fiddling with something by the fire, and doing some more chopping. And she went about it in the same manner as if he wouldn't have been there in the first place. The captain was just about to ask her what the hell she was up to when the woman pulled out an earthy-coloured, ceramic pot from the oddly dim, orange flames. Pale hands wrapped the pot into a time-worn cloth then proceeded to add a fistful of a very light-green, finely shredded, grass like plant into it.

Without a word she carried the pot over to where Law was seated, and he made no secret of that he was eying both her and her concoction with utter suspicion. She chose to flat out ignore the gesture. Fishing a spoon out of her pocket she dipped it into pot and started stirring its thick, sweet-smelling contents, counting under her breath as she went about it. After only a few seconds – Law believed she had reached number 16 in her number-chant – she seemed happy enough with the result, nodding curtly to herself, and held out spoonful of gunk for the tattooed pirate to feast on.

"This should help negate the remaining effects" she muttered when she saw the captain's semi-disgusted expression. Yet, strangely enough, her comment did very little to convince Law.

"Should?" he asked, warily eying the cloth-wrapped pot. He wasn't about to ingest anything this woman offered him just like that. She had, after all, poisoned him once already.

"Yes, should" she repeated, pulling an annoyed expression as the captain turned away from the spoonful she offered.

"You're not certain" he stated, bitterly, glaring her down best he could.

"No" she admitted, her voice never straying from the very matter-of-fact tone she seemed to prefer. "But, this really is your best bet, take it or leave it. It's all up to you."

Once more he could see the spoon hovering in front of his mouth, begging for entrance. It smelled sickly-sweet, and he was sure it would taste equally foul. He opened his mouth to protest, yet again, and too late he realised his mistake.

The grime did not taste as bad as it looked – it was way worse. It was like having thick, sugar-loaded syrup, with an aftertaste of what he imagine only rotted bananas could taste like, slowly seeping down his throat. He gagged. Twice. But the woman refused to give up, and left with no other choice Law, begrudgingly, swallowed.

"What the hell do you think you're you doing!" he bellowed at the pixie-haired woman, lunging at her, managing to grab hold of her forearm. She winced visibly, her eyes widening a fraction as a reaction to his sudden attack. But, just as quickly as he had caught hold of her she had wrung herself loose. She growled at him, her eyes narrowed into thin brownish-red slits, muttering something about this being the thanks she got.

Law snorted in defiance.

"You didn't tie me up" the captain smirked, "your loss."

"No," she spat, rubbing her arm, "even if I had rope to spare I wouldn't waste it on you!"

"Hmm?"

"Yeah, or do you see yourself actually being detained by mere rope, Trafalgar Law of the seven warlords, or whatever other fancy title you might pledge to your name" she said, one eyebrow slightly raised in amusement and a dangerous smile tugging at her lips.

She was not scared of him, as much was obvious. What Law wondered, however, was if he should be of her.

* * *

I'll try to update as often as I can, but with both studies and work my writing time is very limited. Also, as English isn't really my native language it takes quite the effort to produce text, and I don't want to compromise quality all too much. Anyhow, I'll do my best to keep on updating as fast as I can!

As always, thanks for reading and leave a review if you feel like it!


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